


The Heart Of The Mountain

by Corgi



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Arkenstone possessed Bilbo, I've been wanting to write this for ages, M/M, References to Dwarven History, brief mentions of abuse, not too much detail but there is a fleeting reference to past abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corgi/pseuds/Corgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Bilbo sat down hard, holding the Arkenstone loosely in his left hand. His right hand clutched his chest, knuckles white and fingers digging into the shirt he was wearing. Thorin Oakenshield - <i> his Dwarf </i> - was dead. Fíli and Kíli were dead as well. The male heirs of Durin were dead and he couldn’t help but feel that it was due to his actions. Peering down at the stone in his hand, he snarled in a very unhobbit-like fashion and hurled it against the far wall, opposite his bed. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Bilbo, at a loss of what to do, comes to find the truth that could bring his beloved Dwarves back. The Arkenstone is much more than it seems, what with the soul of a Princess within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart Of The Mountain

Bilbo sat down hard, holding the Arkenstone loosely in his left hand. His right hand clutched his chest, knuckles white and fingers digging into the shirt he was wearing. Thorin Oakenshield -   _his Dwarf_  - was dead. Fíli and Kíli were dead as well. The male heirs of Durin were dead and he couldn’t help but feel that it was due to his actions. Peering down at the stone in his hand, he snarled in a very unhobbit-like fashion and hurled it against the far wall, opposite his bed.

The small apartment that Balin had insisted he stayed in until his wounds were all healed was in the middle of the other company members – it felt like they were all trying to stay as close as possible without suffocating him. They knew he’d be leaving soon – knew that Erebor could never become a home to him without Thorin, Fíli and Kíli here as well. Bofur had shown him into his temporary living space before pressing a cloth-wrapped object – the Arkenstone – into his hands.

All Bilbo wanted to do was mourn.

Thorin would never get to see his home rebuilt, never get to see it again in all of its splendour. Kíli would never get to know the home that he missed, even though he’d never been there before. Fíli would never claim his right to rule; never grow old with his brother and have the family he’d always longed for. Never again would they walk the halls of the Lonely Mountain.

Never again.

All because of a stupid rock.

Slowly, he got up and walked over to where he’d thrown the stone, and lamented briefly that he hadn’t managed to shatter it. He wondered if that would have made him feel any better – or if it would only make him feel worse that he’d destroyed that last bit of Thorin he had left. He bent slowly (at the risk of reopening any wounds that he still had) and picked up the Arkenstone, peering deeply into the light that it reflected.

_‘Bilbo Baggins,’_ A voice came into his head. _‘Please, do not grieve them, not yet.'_

He’d been hearing a fair few unfamiliar voices in his head recently, but this one was softer than any of the others, _purer_ , helping to keep some of the dark swirling mass that seemed to always being encroaching on his vision away.

“What do you mean?” He asked, humouring his own splinted mind. The Arkenstone pulsed in his hand, and he almost dropped it as it got warmer. The aches along his arm seemed to vanish as the warmth surged through his body, and he felt lighter than he had for what seemed like forever.

_‘You have to understand me, Bilbo Baggins; I only want to help you and the people of this mountain. My people.’_  The voice chimed, and paused for a moment. _‘ Please, let me explain everything before you make any decisions.’_   It pleaded as Bilbo walked back to his bed and sat down. The voice was feminine, unlike the male voices that swirled in his mind.

“Okay,” He breathed. “I’ll listen. But first – who are you?” There was no reply for a moment, but then the Arkenstone pulsed harder than it had before and a wisp of pearly light floated from between his fingertips and down to the floor, before it began to rise and form the figure of a Dwarven woman. He gaped at her, and pushed himself back further onto the bed when she opened her eyes, gazing at him imploringly.

Her image resembled the ring world, slightly blurred at the edges and too uncomfortable to look at for too long. But instead of the harsh greys and blacks she was made up of soft blues and peachy reds, with pearly white forming her skin, and (oddly enough) her eyes blazed gold.

His understanding of Dwarven beauty made her out to be beautiful, with a fine amount of whiskers on her cheeks, and a sharp and regal face to match her wavy black hair. Her mouth twitched slightly, and she sighed.

_‘My apologies for startling you, Bilbo Baggins; I don’t mean you any harm. I only want to help.’_   She bowed low, her form blurring as she moved, and she became slightly softer when she stood up straight. ‘ _Let me introduce myself. I am Princess Arcane, Daughter of Thráin I. I was once the Princess of the Lonely Mountain. Today, I more commonly known as the Arkenstone – the heart of the Mountain.’_

Bilbo gaped a little bit more, before remembering his manners. Blood rushed to his cheeks suddenly, remembering how he’d violently thrown the stone only moments earlier. As her attempted to apologise, she smiled and shook her head, not wanting an apology.

_‘No, do not feel the need to apologise to me, Master Baggins. If anything, I should be apologising to you for the heartbreak I have caused. I never intended to be an object of such great desire – my mother always said that I would break hearts one day, and I doubt she intended it in this way.’_  She mused, and the resemblance between her and the Durin’s folk that he’d known became apparent as she smirked.

“I hate to be impatient, but you said you can help me? I don’t understand how you could help.” He said hesitantly, and she nodded, moving to sit down next to him. The bed didn’t dip, but she looked like she was sitting, so he focused on more important things. Like why there was a dead Dwarf in the Arkenstone. “Also, I’m afraid I don’t understand how you came to be in the Arkenstone, why are you here?”

Arcane picked at her skirts for a minute or two, before looking past him and seeming rather sad.

_‘My apologies, I supposed I should start from the right place. When I was a Princess, the mountain lived in a time of prosperity. My kin had only recently been cast from Khazad-dûm by Durin’s Bane, and my father was still grieving the loss of my grandfather – I was young when Erebor became the throne for Durin’s Folk – although years older than my brother, Thorin.’_   The name sent a dull pang through his chest, but he brushed it off.

    _‘The Mountain was doing well, my people were happy and we were at peace. Then one year, an illness swept through the halls of my home, and many were barely clinging onto life. My father did not know what to do – so he sent for aid, requesting anything that could help our people. Months passed, and it seemed that the numbers of those dying increased tenfold. We had thought that we were doomed, than Durin’s Folk were forever cursed to death and suffering, when a man appeared before my father._

_Dressed in scarlet, he was captivating, charming most of the court within a few hours. He proclaimed that he could produce a cure, and that he would help my people without wont for anything in return. Of course, my father willingly accepted the aid that the man offered, and they went to talk about the cure for the people whilst the Mountain waited. My father called for me, that evening, and summoned me to his chambers. I’ll never forget the haunted look in his eyes as he explained to me what had to happen to save our people._

_The sorcerer told us that to save the people, one life must be given in exchange for theirs. This life would have to hold great equivalence to the people, so naturally we assumed that this meant one of Royal Lineage. My father intended it to be him – and he was so set in it that nothing, not even my mother’s pleading could dissuade him.’_  Arcane sounded tired, but at the same time content – as if she’d been waiting years to tell this story.

And she probably had.

  _‘But my brother was still young. He was not of age to become King – and my people had lost too many Kings within the past years. I would not let him give his life. So in secret, I offered my own. Looking back now, the signs were obvious to hint that the sorcerer was not as kind-hearted as he seemed. In secret we planned to prepare my soul, he said that for it to be the most effective, my body and soul would have to endure whatever was thrown at it. That man defiled me. He torn me to shreds – three unspeakable acts that haunt me to this day, and I was so blind in the faith that I was helping my people that I let him. The final act to save my people was for me to slowly bleed to death whist he collected my blood._

_I was already beyond help when a servant hurried in, yelling about how the people were cured. I can’t remember much about what happened when my family came in after him, but my last living breaths were surrounded by my family whilst the sorcerer escaped. It was only once I was in the Maker’s Halls did I learn the truth._

_The illness that had swept through the Mountain wasn’t fatal at all, it only made people weak and helpless. In fact, it was a particular illness that was often cast on opposing groups to make them easier to destroy. The Scarlet Sorcerer had sent the spell himself, and then claimed to want to help. All he truly wanted was the blood of Durin – something that my foolishness had given to him._

_I suppose that I am lucky in that he was killed before he could use my blood for anything. As I was dead, it felt like I spent an eternity cursing my foolishness.’_   She went quiet and she had a faraway look on her face, and her form flickered briefly.

  _‘One day I was summoned to the Makers, in which they offered to bestow a gift upon me – for the sacrifice I gave for my people, even though my death hadn’t saved anyone. They told me that I could be remade to protect the Mountain and her people, with three acts of power to make up for the three acts I had to endure. In a hope to save my people from any future threats, I agreed to be remade. Thus, I became the Arkenstone._

_I lived in the walls of the Mountain, waiting to be found. When my brother’s Great-Great-Great-Grandson held me for the first time, I felt home again. The only rule of my three wishes is that I must have a living host to channel the energy of the makers through. When Smaug attacked my people I was stuck above the throne, so close but unable to help my family and the Dwarves of Erebor._

_So for long, I have waited to save my kin, I now I feel as the day is finally upon me.’_   She focused on him again, and smiled softly. He smiled back, although still confused.

“I’m still unsure as to why you are telling me this.” He spoke after a moment, and she stood up and paced around the room. “Of all creatures under this Mountain, why me?”

_‘Because your love for my kin gives me courage. Only you, Bilbo Baggins, can host my soul to fulfil the three godly acts. I will only ask you to help me Bilbo.’_ She dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching to place a hand on top of his. The ghostly limb tickled his skin, and his fingers twitched.

“These acts, what do you intend to do?” Voice soft, he searched her face for the reassurance that he needed.

_‘Your Dwarves were taken to the Maker’s Halls to early. I wish to use the three acts to bring your Dwarves back home.’_   Arcane murmured, and his heart soared.

“What will happen to you?” She leant back, pursing her lips.

_‘I suppose I will be reunited with my family after all these years. But Bilbo, if you agree to this you must know that you will be bound to this Mountain for years to come. You may leave and live your life in the Shire, but you will always end up here in the end.’_   Her voice was strong, and the tone was very gentle as not to frighten him away. Although, she needn’t worry – he’d made up his mind.

“I am not afraid to be bound to this Mountain if it means that I can save them.” Bilbo told her gently, and she drew back, standing up and inhaling deeply. Then, she reached a hand out as if to help him off of the bed, and when he touched her this time her skin was warm and solid, and she helped him to his feet. Warmth started at his finger tips, and it began to climb up his arm.  The dulled stone slipped from his fingertips as Arcane’s wispy body began to blur around him, and he felt unimaginable energy flow through him as the room exploded into light. Her mind was closer to his, and he felt like the moon, channelling the light of a much greater sun.

The world erupted into more swirling colour around him, and he was suddenly stood in-between the glass coffins that held Prince Fíli and Prince Kíli. The burial procession halted as he stared out at them, and he smiled gently and gave in to Arcane’s energy as the world went black.

 


End file.
